


May I Have This Dance?

by Lady_Saddlebred



Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me [22]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:43:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Saddlebred/pseuds/Lady_Saddlebred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Valentine’s Day sweet treat</p>
            </blockquote>





	May I Have This Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> Lady_Saddlebred, both personally and on behalf of original co-author Red_921, would like to extend a sincere and heartfelt THANK YOU to each and every one of you who has taken the time to leave kudos and comments. 
> 
> Hard to believe “Lessons” started out as a simple one-shot PWP on the M-A Archive. Thanks to all of you, it’s now up to 22 stories, and plans for several more yet to come.
> 
> Happy Valentine’s Day from Quinn and Ben and the whole Lessons crew!

Title: May I Have This Dance?

Author: Lady_Saddlebred (cdelapin@yahoo.com)

Archive: Yes, please

Category: Q/O, Alternate Reality, Romance

Rating: NC-17

Series: Lessons They Never Taught Me in School

 

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owned everything, until he sold it to Disney. We own nothing, just playing in his playground.

 

Thanks always to my fabulous betas, Merry Amelie and Katbear. Any mistakes are mine.

Special thanks to Helen. She knows why… :D

Previous fics in series: all on AO3 website:  
Early Admission  
Lessons They Never Taught Me in School  
Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus  
That Which Does Not Go to School  
Rainy Day Recess   
Of Popcorn and Pine Trees  
Fit to Print  
Daffodils  
Spring Cotillion  
Is That a Lightsaber I See Before Me  
A Pen for Your Thoughts  
When I Was Your Age  
Partners  
Mum’s the Word  
Best Laid Plans  
An Apple for Teacher  
What’s for Supper  
Pacifier  
Snow Angels  
One Man’s Junk  
May I Have This Dance

 

SUMMARY: A Valentine’s Day sweet treat 

 

NOTE: May want to also re-read Lessons They Never Taught Me In School and Lessons That Were Never on the Syllabus

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Hold it just like that, yeah, great! Now let me grab a couple more,” came the disembodied voice behind the big tripod. “Looking good, babe.” There was a loud click and a whir. “Okay, you can relax for a minute.”

 

Ben tried not to squirm, but the lights were in his eyes, and he could feel the sweat trickling down his ribs. “Hot,” he muttered, wishing for a cold drink of water. Or better yet, a cold beer.

 

“Yeah, but that just adds to the realism,” the photographer replied, as he checked and rechecked the camera settings and minutely adjusted one of the lights. “You don’t want to look like you’re having *too* much fun, do you?” He grinned, as Ben glared. “Okay, okay, maybe you do. I’m not asking.” He stepped forward and angled Ben’s arms and head. “Oh, man, he’s gonna love this.”

 

“I hope so,” Ben said. “How do models do this all day long, anyway?”

 

“They get paid big bucks to be uncomfortable, buddy. Oooh, wait, hold it. That backlight is *perfect*. Don’t move!” The camera clicked and whirred several times. “Okay, you can breathe now.”

 

“You’re a sadistic bastard, Tony,” Ben muttered, wondering not for the first time how he’d let himself get talked into this. Although, truth be told, he’d talked himself into it. 

 

All because he'd wanted to do something special for Quinn for Valentine’s Day. 

 

Quinn was constantly showering him with gifts, large and small. It mattered not one iota to him that Ben couldn’t reciprocate; the slightest gesture in return was met with unreserved pleasure. The man had even abandoned a black-tie sit-down birthday dinner at Sydney Hall in favor of beer and pizza and a DVD in Ben’s apartment. That had been a red-letter night for both of them. 

 

He’d been gathering and discarding ideas for weeks. Then, while doing some work on Quinn’s new computer, he’d noticed several bookmarked museum websites. Typical Quinn, he’d thought, lost in the Renaissance again. At least he was using the computer, instead of the innumerable art books scattered all over the brownstone. Curiously browsing through one of the sites, he’d suddenly been inspired. He'd give his eccentric professor something to really get his motor- 

 

“Hold it! That’s just right! Don’t move, don’t even *breathe*!” Tony called excitedly as the camera clicked again and again. “Beautiful! That’s the *one*, baby!”

 

The one what? Ben thought, startled from his reverie. “Can I move now? Please?”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Hang on a minute, and I’ll show you. Oh, man, the look on your face-” Tony carefully disconnected the big digital camera from the tripod and brought it over. “What do you think?”

 

“It’s… it’s great,” Ben stammered. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Was that him? Was that what Quinn-

 

“You should do a calendar, man. You’d clean up! C’mon, let me-”

 

“No, thanks!” Ben said hurriedly. “Not interested. This is strictly a one-shot deal. And you’d better destroy every bit of the evidence, you hear me?” He locked eyes with his former classmate, who grinned and nodded.

 

“Okay, no worries, pal. Can’t blame me for asking, though, right? Ever change your mind, I want right of first refusal, though. It’d sell like hotcakes. We could probably both retire on the royalties.” 

 

“Yeah, right,” Ben muttered, wondering not for the first time if he was making a huge mistake. But when Tony showed him the enlarged proofs on the computer, he knew it had been worth it.

 

Quinn was going to *die*. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

The red envelope caught Quinn’s eye as he bent to retrieve the mail from the foyer floor. He recognized the handwriting and smiled, remembering the last such note, inviting him to Ben’s apartment for the first time. That the summons had just happened to coincide with Quinn’s birthday was, as they say, “icing on the cake.” 

 

He carefully slit open the packet and drew out a screen print of a rustic cabin and directions to a location about 20 miles outside of town. There was a handwritten note at the bottom:

 

Saturday, 6:00 pm. Don’t be late.

 

Come alone.

 

How very mysterious. What was his lad up to?

 

~*~*~*~

 

Quinn pulled into the gravel driveway Saturday evening and sat for a moment, contemplating the small cabin. Ben’s note had been rather cryptic. But after the near-debacle of the surprise birthday celebration, he was damned if anything -- or *anyone* -- was going to spoil his lad’s intrigues this time. 

 

In past years, he and Adele customarily chaperoned the school’s annual Valentine’s Day dance, but he’d begged off when he got Ben’s note, to her great amusement. He’d sent flowers and an offer to secure another escort for the event, but she’d waived him off, cheekily reminding him that he wasn’t the only fish in the sea. The vixen.

 

With a light heart, he’d packed a change of clothes and some toiletries, since it seemed likely they’d be spending the night. Bernini had been dropped off at the groomer’s, who requested to keep him overnight to do an extra thorough job. He’d picked up a big box of Ben’s favorite chocolates and an appropriately schmaltzy card – it was Valentine’s Day weekend, after all.

 

Through a thin crack in the drapes, he could see lights on inside. There’d been just enough daylight left as he entered the property to appreciate the scenery – a lake off to the side, surrounded by evergreens and winter-bare oaks and maples. It must be beautiful in the fall. They’d have to come back again. The cabin itself was almost bucolic, complete with a covered porch and a couple of rocking chairs. Wind chimes rang in the twilight. 

 

Swinging out of the Jag, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Ben heard the car door slam and glanced nervously around the room to be sure everything was ready. Too late to back out now. He took a deep breath.

 

There was a polite knock at the front door. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

Quinn struggled not to stare.

 

Ben stood in the doorway, decked out in a stylish black tuxedo, complete with studs and cufflinks. His auburn hair gleamed in the lamplight. Bernini stood behind him, sporting a matching bow tie. 

 

“Have I come to the right place?” Quinn asked humorously, glancing down at his weekend khakis and loafers. “I didn’t realize this was a formal occasion. Though apparently Bernini got the memo.” He paused. “And how’d he get up here anyway? I thought he was spending the night at the groomer’s.”

 

“Yeah, well, they just told you that, so you wouldn’t worry,” Ben said, with a secret smile. “He hitched a ride with me.” He beckoned Quinn inside. “And don’t worry -- your Armani’s all laid out for you on the bed.”

 

“Then I’ll be sure to rise to the occasion.”

 

“Never doubted it for a minute, love.”

 

The room was comfortably furnished, with a deep L-shaped couch in earth tones of sage and chocolate brown. A propane fireplace crackled merrily in the corner. A drop-leaf table under a window overlooking the lake was set for two, complete with flickering candles and an opened bottle of wine. The aromas emanating from the small kitchen were mouth-watering. Through the open doorway beyond, Quinn glimpsed a king-sized bed. The setting reminded him of a rustic honeymoon getaway. Turning slowly in a circle, he caught Ben’s expectant gaze, and held up his hands in pleased surrender. 

 

“It’s amazing, love. All of it. However did you manage to pull all this off?”

 

Ben shrugged. “I just figured it was about time to spend some of that outrageous consulting fee you insisted on paying me to do the remodel on the brownstone. This seemed like a perfect opportunity.”

 

“That money should be going toward restoring your Mustang,” Quinn said reprovingly. “Not wasting it on me.”

 

“It’s not wasted,” Ben insisted. “You do stuff for me all the time. I wanted to do something for you. For us.”

 

Quinn smiled, conceding the point. “Well, it’s bloody grand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go slip into something a bit more… suitable.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The bedroom suite was another pleasant surprise. In addition to the king-sized bed, there was a good-sized closet and a bathroom with a shower stall. An alcove of floor-to-ceiling windows held a large Jacuzzi tub sunk into a redwood base, complete with a selection of oils and scented candles. Steam was rising from the tub, and he was tempted to tell Ben to forget dinner and come join him there. But no, Ben had obviously planned a special evening, and he wasn’t about to disappoint his lad.

 

He took a quick shower, then changed into his tuxedo. It had been his first luxury purchase after he had come into his inheritance from his grandfather’s estate a few years earlier. He made a mental note to take Ben shopping soon. If a men’s store rental could look that good, imagine what his own custom-tailored tux would do for him.

 

When he re-entered the main room, Ben was pouring the wine. Soft music emanated from a portable CD player. Bernini lay in front of the fire, gnawing on a rawhide treat. 

 

“I’m starving,” Quinn said, seating himself opposite his lover and accepting a glass. “Let’s eat.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Dinner was delicious, and after a quick shared clean-up, they sat in front of the fire, enjoying brandy and Quinn's chocolates for dessert. The couch was incredibly comfortable, and Quinn was tempted to bring it home with them. Or at least find something like it for the living room. His antique brocade chesterfield was handsome enough, but not terribly comfortable for anything more than polite sitting.

 

“This was wonderful, all of it, love,” he said for the umpteenth time, reaching for Ben’s hand. “I can’t believe you pulled it off and managed to keep it totally a secret. Even the dog.” He petted the big golden retriever at his feet. “Remarkable.”

 

“Glad you liked it,” Ben replied. “And thanks for the candy and the card. I loved it.”

 

“If I’d known you were doing all this, I’d have gotten a bigger box,” Quinn joked. In retrospect, he was more than a little embarrassed. He should have known a syrupy romanticized holiday like Valentine’s Day would be important to his tender-hearted lover. He’d have to come up with something special to make up for his lack of sensitivity.

 

Setting down his snifter, Ben rose and went to the CD player. Dreamy piano music began to flow from the speakers, as he turned and held out his arms in invitation. “Dance with me?” he asked softly. 

 

Charmed, Quinn stood and bowed. “It would be my very great pleasure, sir.” They moved slowly around the room. 

 

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” Quinn asked curiously.

 

“Remember the Halloween party? I watched you and Adele waltzing together and ever since then, I’ve dreamed of dancing with you. So I bought a couple of videos and practiced. A *lot*.” Ben grinned. “How am I doing?”

 

“Exceedingly well,” Quinn replied. “You’ve a natural grace. Would you like to take some ballroom lessons?”

 

Ben’s green eyes lit with enthusiasm. “I’d love it, if you’ll take them with me.”

 

“Whoever else?” Quinn responded, with a predatory grin. “I’m not about to let anyone move in on my man.”

 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Ben answered, snuggling into Quinn’s arms. Quinn guided them around the floor again, and Ben followed his lead. It felt as if they’d been dancing together for years.

 

When the song ended, Ben sighed and reached up for a kiss. “That was wonderful, thank you.”

 

“Thank *you*,” Quinn answered, eyes bright in the firelight. “For the dance, the dinner, everything. It’s altogether marvelous, my bonny love.” He kissed Ben’s forehead. “Now, I believe I saw a rather inviting tub in the other room. Care to join me for a lap or two around the pool?”

 

Ben grinned and reached for the brandy. “After you.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

They slowly undressed each other, interspersed with random kisses and caresses. Bernini wisely remained in the outer room, well used by now to the idiosyncrasies of his humans. And there was a fireplace to be enjoyed. 

 

The Jacuzzi tub overlooked the woods and the lake. The picture windows were lightly tinted, so it was unlikely anyone could see much from the outside. The whole arrangement bespoke a desire for privacy. Several seemingly personal touches throughout the cabin suggested to Quinn this was not a public rental.

 

“So where’d you find this place?” he asked casually, as they both slid into the hot water with blissful sighs. “It’s charming.”

 

“It belongs to a friend,” Ben said vaguely. He seemed disinclined to elaborate, and Quinn didn’t push. Instead, he poured them each another drink and leaned back against the side of the tub, raising his glass in a toast.

 

“To a truly memorable Valentine’s Day,” he said, admiring his auburn-haired lover lounging across from him, green eyes slitted against the steam, arms moving idly in the oiled water. It was a delightfully artistic picture, and Quinn carefully filed it away for future recall. Too bad there wasn’t even a bathtub in the master suite in the brownstone. Though come to think of it, there was that second bathroom down the hall…

 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Ben replied. “I thought it would be fun to do something… different. Somewhere private, where we didn’t have to worry about being seen.” He raised his own glass to his mouth, but Quinn caught the melancholy behind the words.

 

“I know it’s not easy on you, lad,” he soothed. “But we knew going in what we were facing, remember. We can’t risk running afoul of the Board of Governors. It could mean your job. I won’t let that happen.”

 

Ben nodded. “I know. It’s just that when I see couples on the street, or in a restaurant or a bar and they’re so… open about it, it makes me want to stand up on the table and yell ‘I’m in love, and I don’t care who knows it!’” He blushed as he said it, and Quinn couldn’t help but chuckle at his vehemence. After a pause, Ben joined in, albeit a bit unwillingly. Obviously it was a sensitive issue. 

 

“Just makes times like this something to be enjoyed that much more, doesn’t it?” Quinn agreed, holding out an arm in invitation. Ben slid through the bubbling water and snuggled into his chest. They lay back in the water, eyes closed, just Being in the Moment.

 

A semi-polite nudging against Quinn’s hip gradually brought him back to awareness. With a smile, he reached down with his free hand and grasped Ben’s semi-erect penis. “Well, hello there, stranger,” he said teasingly. “Come to join the party, have you?”

 

Ben moaned deep in his throat at the intimate contact, and moved closer. “Feels good,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”

 

“No intention of it,” Quinn affirmed, wrapping his fingers around the rapidly hardening organ. He began to pet and stroke it, softly at first, then with more purpose, as it swelled and lengthened in his hand. Ben remained still, head pillowed on Quinn’s shoulder, but his breathing grew steadily more erratic, coupled with sighs and vague sounds of approval. The oily water slickened Quinn’s grip, and he deliberately kept the pace slow, prolonging their mutual pleasure. This was not something to be hurried, but savored. He might have only brought chocolates and a soppy card, but he’d make it up to his lad now.

 

After a few minutes, he felt a hand moving to return the favor. He left off his ministrations just long enough to shift Ben onto his lap, far enough apart that each could move freely on the other. Predictably, it didn’t take long for both men to climax. Watching Ben come was every bit as thrilling to Quinn as the actual physical stimulation. The room lit up with the glow from the incredible green eyes, echoed by the harmonious sounds of their shared satisfaction. 

 

Breathing slowly returning to normal, they lay back again in the water and floated, both physically and emotionally, enjoying the afterglow. Then Ben roused himself and reached for their glasses, which had miraculously managed to make it to the edge of the tub without incident. He took a long swallow of brandy, then leaned in for a kiss, sharing the taste of the strong liquor. Quinn pulled him close, with a deep sigh of contentment.

 

“We need one of these,” he proclaimed. “It’s feckin’ brilliant.”

 

“Where would you *put* it?” Ben asked, with a quizzical laugh. “There’s no room in the bedroom. Not that it wouldn’t be nice, mind you.”

 

“Hmm, I suppose you have a point there, lad. Ah, well, we’ll just have to file it away for future reference. Maybe your friend would let us borrow this place again sometime.”

 

“Oh, probably,” Ben agreed. “If we make it worth his while. Quid pro quo, and all that.” He set his glass on the side of the tub and stood. “We’re both about to prune.” He climbed out of the water and brought over two bath sheets from the shelf. “Come on, Professor Fossil. Out of there, before you fall asleep and drown.”

 

Quinn sighed. “All good things must come to an end, I suppose.” He stood and accepted a hand from Ben to exit the tub. 

 

“It’s not quite over,” Ben said, draping one of the towels around Quinn’s shoulders, then proceeding to dry himself off with the other. Reaching into the closet, he pulled out their silk dressing gowns, along with a gift-wrapped package, which he shyly handed to Quinn.

 

Quinn eyed the box with trepidation. “Will it explode?” he asked half-seriously. 

 

“Nah, it should be safe enough,” Ben drawled, but his eyes were alight with anticipation. 

 

Intrigued, Quinn carefully undid one end of the gift wrap and reached inside. What he saw took his breath away.

It was a 16 x 20 framed vertical photograph of Ben, nude but for a brief linen loincloth, with a number of extremely realistic arrows piercing his ivory skin at various lethal angles. His arms were raised above his head, wrists crossed and bound in leather thongs. His head tilted down at an angle, suggesting he was somewhat less than comfortable. Green eyes smoldered underneath impossibly long lashes, and the mouth curled in an insolent pout. Quinn stared in rapt fascination, struck both by the image and the message behind it.

Ben shifted uneasily in the silence. “Do you like it?” His hesitation made Quinn’s heart clench.

“Like it? Ben, I feckin’ *love* it,” Quinn breathed. He reverently touched the picture, as if afraid of causing the subject further injury. “It’s magnificent. Whatever gave you the idea?”

“You told me once that I reminded you of a romanticized Saint Sebastian. You even showed me a picture of him in one of your dad’s art books, remember?” Quinn nodded. “Well, I thought it would be kind of neat to do a more… modern version. The guy that owns this cabin is a photographer. He’s an old friend from college, and recently opened a studio over on the other side of town. I Photoshopped in the arrows myself. Wasn’t easy, but it came out pretty well, don’t you think?”

“It’s gorgeous. Very creative.” Quinn held up the picture and studied it at arms’ length. “Where shall we hang it? Over the mantel? Or perhaps in the foyer?” 

“I think not,” Ben said firmly. “Maybe in the bedroom. I imagined it on that short wall beside the bathroom. That way you can see it as soon as you walk into the room.”

Quinn chuckled. “Good point. Perhaps it is just a wee bit risqué for public viewing.” He propped the picture up on the dresser, then turned to pull Ben back into his arms. “It’s a wonderful present, love. Thank you.” He tilted Ben’s face up and kissed him, long and sweet, until Ben pushed back, laughing that he needed oxygen. His eyes shone with pleasure that his gift had been so well received.

“I love you,” he said, reaching up to stroke Quinn’s bearded jaw.

“I love you, too,” Quinn answered. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet Sebastian.”

~end~


End file.
